


Shadows Could Talk

by LouieRambles



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa), Twilight Zone
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:12:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouieRambles/pseuds/LouieRambles
Summary: Frankenstein had been at it for less than an hour when the bedroom door finally opened and someone trudged in.He'd been expecting it to be an adult human, burdened and weary with the world. Instead, what he got was a human child, slogging along as if they were carrying a heavy burden across his shoulders, and just as world-weary as he had been expecting.





	Shadows Could Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not so happy with this one, but that's wat you get when I rewatch old tv shows. You get this monstrosity.

Frankenstein hummed to himself impatiently as he waited for night to fall. There was nothing else that he could do to occupy himself, other than looking out at the new bedroom from his vantage point underneath the familiar bed.

And even  _that_  got old after a the first few minutes.

He wondered why Raizel had asked him to move to this house. There wasn't even a child in the house, from what he could see.

There had been no tiny shoes in the entryway, when the bed had been carried past the threshold of the house. Nor were there any photographs on the walls or toys on the stairs. There weren't even any personal possessions inside this room that could be attributed to a child.

Still. Raizel obviously had his reasons, and all Frankenstein needed to do was follow the request that had been asked of him.

_"Please change houses, just for a little while. You can come back, after that. I promise._

There was no way that Frankenstein could refuse a request from Raizel. Not from the child whose childhood he had followed so closely. So he resigned himself to wait for an indeterminate amount of time. Time was something that he had an abundance of, after all.

He entertained himself briefly, with a cotton ball that had made its way under the bed at some point. The brown cotton ball had crusted over, and stank faintly of something that Frankenstein felt he should remember. Other than that, it was just a dirty ball of cotton.

A dirty ball of cotton that gave him something else o focus on, other than his boredom.

Frankenstein flicked it away from him, as far as he could get it, without sending any of his extremities out into the waning light of the afternoon. Then, he focused on summoning his Dark Spear. The demented thing resisted him, as it usually did. The presence of daylight however, had weakened it severely, and allowed him to call upon it without too much of a hassle, and minimal cursing on the weapon's part.

Taking a deep breath, Frankenstein forced the malevolent presence down into a concentrated spear and hurled it at the ball of cotton.

Despite the fact that his aim was true, the ball did not move from where it was. Instead, his spear quickly evaporated in the daylight.

Frankenstein nodded, and did it again.

And again.

And again.

He tossed spear after spear at the cotton ball, knowing that none of them would ever touch it. 

It was just something to occupy him. And it gave him a chance to train, without accidentally harming anyone. Therefore, it was a win-win situation.

He had been at it for less than an hour when the bedroom door finally opened and someone trudged in. Curious, Frankenstein crawled as close as he could get to the light and peered out from under the bed.

He had been expecting it to be an adult human, burdened and weary with the world. Instead, what he got was a human child, slogging along as if they were carrying a heavy burden across his shoulders, and just as world-weary as he had been expecting.

It was not an attractive stance to see on a child.

Frankenstein pulled himself even further, in an attempt to see the child's face. His hands however, touched one of the last vestiges of daylight, and he drew back with a hiss. He tucked his smoking fingers into his pockets as he sullenly stared out at the child, who had stood frozen where he stood. After a while, they walked over to the window with slow steps and eased it open, drawing the curtains and allowing more light into the room. They looked down into the yard below, silently. For a few minutes, that was all they did, giving Frankenstein a chance to examine them further. 

The child was small and thin, their tattered clothing hanging off of them as if they were a hanger. Their hair was long and unruly, as if the child had never seen a brush in their life. One of their arms rested on the windowsill, the elbow twisted at an odd angle.

"Damned cats," the child, now identifiable as a boy, mumbled, and then turned away. He limped away from the window, and threw himself onto the bed. His filthy, decrepit shoes thumped against the carpet a while later. The holey socks soon followed. Then, a backpack was set down with the utmost care.

The boy sighed, and pages began flipping. The sound of rustling pages stopped, and the scratch of a pencil against paper began.

Those two sounds became the only constants in the room. Occasionally, the boy let out a groan, or an animal's cry echoed through the still open window, but those were few and far in between. 

Frankenstein closed his eyes, and imagined that he was back with Raizel. If he let his mind wander far enough he could also see his sons there, in a rare moment of calm, toying with the books on Raizel's bookshelf. It was...peaceful. He pulled himself together, just enough to lift the teapot, so that he could pour some tea for Raizel. 

The window came crashing down with an agonising squeal. The sound of it startled Frankenstein so much that he released the teapot. Whirling around, he opened his mouth to berate his sons for causing trouble. Instead, he was met with the feet of a terrified boy. A  _very_  terrified boy.

He swallowed the names that had nearly slipped past his lips and mentally berated  _himself_  for being so careless. 

"Aww  _hell,_ " the boy was whispering repeatedly,voice trembling fiercely. He paced frantically, then abruptly shoved his meagre belongings under his bed. No sooner than he had done so, did the door fly open, banging against the wall with enough force to crack it.

For the second time in a single day, Frankenstein found himself crawling over to the edge of the bed so that he could see the person that had entered the room.

The newcomer was large, based on the size of his feet alone. When he began walking forward, Frankenstein added  _angry_  to his profile of the man.

He stormed into the room, and the child stumbled backwards, scrabbling to get away from him. Frankenstein followed the two humans as they neared the wall furthest from the bed.

The adult, a blonde with greasy hair, shoved the boy up against the wall. "I thought I told you to quit breaking my shit, you lil' brat!" He slammed he boy up against the wall once more. 

The boy gasped, and curled in on himself once he was released. He fell to his knees, trembling.

"I-I'm sorry, Dad, I-I-I didn't mean to-to let the window slam, honestly!" he stammered. "It- it just...I won't let it happen again, I-I swear!" 

Frankenstein glared out at the scene, then glanced over at the window. There was still too much light outside for him to intervene.  He was getting annoyed, not being allowed to stop he sickening scene that was unfolding before him. 

"Like hell it won't happen again, you piece of shit!" the man roared. "I let you live under my roof, I feed your ungrateful ass, and I put clothes on your back, and you repay me by destroying my stuff and running away. You know how that makes me look, huh?"

Like an asshole, Frankenstein wanted to say, buy he kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling that the child would be punished for saying anything, even if he whatever had been said wasn't said in his voice.

"I didn't run away Dad, it was-"

"You talking back to me now brat? Is that it? Is that the level of respect I'm getting from you?" The man grabbed the child by his grey hair and hauled him into a standing position. "Turn around kid, and put your hands on the wall."

"Dad, please," the boy whispered, shaking even harder now. "I-I said I was sorry."

"And  _I_  said to turn around and put your  _fucking_  hands on the wall." 

The adult was already yanking his belt out of his pants, and Frankenstein could tell where this was going. He wanted to look away from such baseless violence. But, at the same time, he wanted to know just how much pain he should inflict upon this man before killing him. A broken bone for every mark left on the child's body sounded perfect, but he might have to inflate the punishment. Either way, the human was in for a painful death.

Seething, he watched as the boy grit his teeth and turned around, fisting his hands against the wall. The belt whistled through the air, culminating in a whip-like crack against the child's back. The boy gasped and arched his back, but didn't move to get away.

And where would he go, Frankenstein asked himself. It was obvious that the neighbours closest to the house weren't concerning themselves with the abuse going on under their noses. It was ridiculous. It was insane.

No wonder Raizel had requested that he change homes, just for a bit. 

Again and again, the belt cracked against the child's back. He was sobbing, now. But not once did he cry out. He gasped and whined and choked, but never shouted. Frankenstein couldn't tell if it was bravery, or foolishness.

Brave, because he was so young, yet he chose to stay, rather than run away. Foolish,  _because_  he chose to stay, rather than run away. After all, he who fought and ran away, would live to fight another day. While the man who stayed and stood his ground usually left in an ambulance.

Which was what the child needed when the adult finished with him. 

Instead, the man left the room without another word, locking the door behind him. The child, without hesitation, picked his bloody and battered form off the floor and crawled over to his bed. The springs creaked, and Frankenstein heard the shuddering breaths as the child lay down. Then lights went out, and all was dark.

He sulked until the boy's soft sobs eventually petered out. He continued sulking until the child's  hoarse breathing evened out into the deep breaths that accompanied human slumber. 

Only when the moon was high did Frankenstein crawl out from his hiding place. He stretched himself as long as he could, and then condensed his shadows. Standing there, at the child's bedside, he examined him in the near darkness.

The boy was thin, and looked to be about the same age that Raizel was, when Frankenstein first met him. However, he had more bones showing than Raizel had, when he had gone through 'puberty'. And that scar across his lips...

Frankenstein was willing to bet that it had been given to him by his father.

Incensed, he leaned over the child and whispered into his ear, " _ **I am the shadow man, and I will never harm the person under whose bed I sleep.**_ "

Promise made, he eased open the boy's window and slipped out.

A few houses down, a black-haired man opened his window to welcome a shadow inside. 


End file.
